“That is Sinsity,” he replies.
Cheers erupt, though they’re hoarse, they’re genuine. The realization that we’re going to survive buoys everyone’s spirits. Our pace quickens. The closer we draw, the more breathtaking our view becomes. What I see before me is unlike anything I could imagine in my wildest dreams. “What is this place? Was it always like this?” I ask.
“Now it’s Sinsity, but a long time ago, it was known as Las Vegas, a place where humans came to gamble,” Garan answers.
“What is gamble?” Ara asks.
“Gamble is a word that means wagering money to try to win money.” Garan stares ahead, as if seeing the gambling of a bygone era.
“What’s money?” Xan asks.
“It’s what people used back then to buy things,” Garan replies.
“What does that mean?” Xan’s curiosity is piqued.
“Never mind.” Garan waves him off, the exertion of speaking and explaining requiring energy he clearly doesn’t have.
Xan doesn’t require anything further. He understands. We continue in silence, walking until we enter Sinsity.
Bustling with humans and Urthmen alike, Sinsity is a flurry of activity. Buildings tower in an array of shapes and colors. Voices are everywhere, surrounding us in a cacophonous roar. Sounds fuse together—footsteps, shouts and conversations, doors opening and closing—forming a single, constant, incomprehensible buzz. I look around and take a deep breath. The aroma of cooking meat mingles with sweat and a myriad of other scents. I’m not sure whether my mouth should be watering or I should be revolted. In all honesty, I feel both nauseated and ravenous simultaneously, which adds to the disorienting quality of Sinsity. I’m vaguely aware of the appearances of those who pass us, and no one gives us a second look. I’m sure we look like death and are covered in caked sand but we slip by unnoticed. A pop echoes. Ara startles, recoiling and bumping into me. Within seconds, the source of the pop is revealed. A motorized vehicle snarls and bounds from a nearby street like a feline predator, snarling before the engine whines and it races down the road. A man straddles it. Everyone moves out of his way, though the vehicle is devoid of windows, doors, a frame or body, and has only two wheels. Shocked, my eyes follow him as he zips by.
My attention doesn’t remain fixed to the man on the two-wheeled contraption for long. An argument erupts as two men burst from a nearby building. Stumbling and seemingly struggling with retaining their balance, they shout and curse one another. Few passersby stop to watch. The men are oblivious of their audience. They continue screaming and gesturing until one draws a blade from a sheath at his hip. The other reaches from one kept on his thigh and they lunge at each other. Grunts and swearwords kick up in a cloud of sand. Arms and legs are a clumsy blur until one man cries out. The fighting subsides, a crimson puddle pooling in the dirt. The man who cried out collapses to the ground in a heap, gripping a growing bloodstain on his chest. The other raises his arms in victory, pumping his still-bloody dagger in the air.
I realize my steps have slowed to a near-halt. What I’m seeing surprises me, but not as much as the fact that no one reacts to it. No one seems to care than one human just stabbed another to death. Mouth agape and mind spinning, my mind has difficulty processing all that I’ve seen and heard since entering this place.
I see Garan in my periphery. I turn to face him. With an expression that’s deadly serious, he says, “Welcome to Sinsity.”
Chapter 11
Welcome isn’t the first word that comes to mind as I watch the man bleeding out in the sand. He wheezes and chokes and takes a final breath, blood burbling between his lips. Bystanders step over him and around him, unfazed by the gory scene. They are a kaleidoscopic wave of noise, indifferent to his plight and determined to get wherever it is they need to be. I, on the other hand, am inert as I look on in horror. Feet rooted to the pavement and mouth agape, I consider my first moments in Sinsity. No, welcome is definitely not among the first hundred words that come to mind.
“Lucas.” I’m vaguely aware of my name being said over the clamor and jostling all around me. I turn my head toward Garan, recognizing his voice. It snaps me out of my trancelike stupor. “Lucas, we need to get water before we collapse.”
I look left then right. The movement, combined with the torrent of humans and Urthmen moving past me, leaves me a little lightheaded. “We’re nowhere near a stream or river. How are we going to find water?” We’re in the middle of a desert. The notion of getting water seems an impossible feat, yet Garan believes we can, and said it with the relaxed attitude with which one reports the weather.
The crowd thins a little. There’s a break in the swell of Urthmen and humans. Garan studies my face for a moment. Confusion touches his features. “We don’t need a stream or river. We’ll go to a place where they have it already.” He pauses a moment, as if gauging whether I understood what he said, then guides me forward. Away from the dead man, barely visible now through the crowd of people, who once again move in either direction along the side of the road.
I’m still staggered by the nonchalance of the onlookers but tear my eyes away and pin them to Garan. “What? How’s that even possible?”
“How’s what possible?” Garan weaves between an Urthman and human woman who chat and smile at one another.
“How’s it possible to get water to a random place when there isn’t a river or stream nearby?” I slow my steps, straining my voice to be heard over the incessant commotion.
“Pipes.” He pauses and looks at me, narrowing his eyes at me as if I should somehow already know this piece of information. He sees from the puzzled look that undoubtedly marks my face that I haven’t the slightest idea what he’s talking about. Resigned, he brushes his hand in front of him dismissively. “Let’s go. You’ll see.” Though his tone isn’t rude exactly, his words are clipped.
“Pipes?” I can’t help but say. I shake my head. My thoughts are fuzzy from thirst and hunger. Even if it weren’t for that fact, I’d still struggle to make the connection between pipes and water in a barren landscape of sand and thorny-looking plants I’d be afraid to touch much less eat.
Garan wipes his brow. “Yes, pipes. Pipes bring the water in from a source, a lake or something.”
I don’t bother asking more questions. My tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth and the world is wavering in and out of focus. I don’t care if the water is squeezed from the spiny plants at this moment, as long as I can drink some and alleviate the disorientation I’m feeling.
“Water sounds great,” Xan says, his voice weaker than I’m used to hearing it.
“The water is piped in,” Reyna repeats. “And it’s given to us?”
“No. Nothing in Sinsity is given to anyone. Nothing is free here,” Garan says. He eyes the oncoming throng of people, sidestepping some and grazing the shoulders of others. No one seems bothered by being bumped. “We’re going to have to pay for it.”
Reyna slides me a concerned look.
“Pay for it? With what?” Ara asks. I can hear the worry in her tone. Any other time a payment of sorts was expected from us, it came in the form of our lives.
Garan guides us to the right. I narrowly dodge getting knocked on my backside by the largest woman I’ve ever seen in my life. She steps in my path and knocks my shoulder with her meaty shoulder. She then turns, glares at me and shouts a string of curse words at me.
Xan laughs. “Oh, Lucas, I think she likes you.”
Micah chuckles, too. “You should chase her down. Get to know her. She’s a keeper for sure.”
I peer through the throngs of people. I find her immediately and watch as she lumbers along, still unable to make sense of why she slammed into me in the first place and was so angry at me about it. The thought of another encounter with her sends a shiver of disgust vibrating through me. “No thanks,” I say.
My comment garners more laughter. Even from Garan. “No thanks is right,” he agrees. When the snickers and giggles die down, t
he conversation is redirected to Ara’s question from earlier. “I have money. To pay for water and food.”
“Oh,” Ara replies. I hear the hollowness to her single-word response. She’s as confused as I am by all that Garan has said about Sinsity but she doesn’t press him form more information.
We continue along briefly before Garan points to a building that’s made mostly of orange-hued glass. A sign that reads “Nate’s” hangs unevenly in the center of the wall facing us. “That’s a good place,” he comments.
“A good place for what?” Reyna asks.
“To eat,” Garan replies.
“There’s food in there?” Kai’s smooth voice flows to us, unaffected by thirst as mine is. His dark eyes shine with wonder. His expression is one of pure curiosity.
“It’s a restaurant.” Garan’s tone is similar to a flustered adult who’s answering an endless set of questions from a small child with endless interest.
“What’s a restaurant?” Micah wants to know.
Garan rubs his temples. “It’s a place to eat.” His tone is growing frustrated. Exhaustion, hunger and thirst aren’t working in his favor right now, or anyone else’s for that matter. To Garan, I suppose all that surrounds him is normal. He’s been here before and has spent a fair amount of time on more than one occasion. To us, it’s a whole new world. He steps to the entrance of what I now know is a restaurant and opens the door. A whoosh of warm air, rich with unfamiliar but mouthwatering scents, greets us.
“Whoa, it smells incredible in here,” Pike says.
My stomach rumbles as I step over the threshold. “It really does.” The space in front of us is filled with tables. Humans and Urthmen are seated at them. Plates, bowls and cups are placed before everyone. There is no sense of urgency as they eat. To the contrary, the atmosphere is relaxed, as if food isn’t a scarce necessity but a pastime. My insides are suddenly jittery, my legs wobbly. Reyna is beside me as we walk deeper into the crowded room. Her hand barely brushes my back, but the sensation, light as it is, is reassuring. I pause midstride beneath an arched doorway. My eyes widen. The interior is breathtaking. Iron sconces with candles hang from beams, and decorative fixtures with branched parts that hold candles dangle over covered tables filled with fruits and vegetables and meats, and glasses filled with ruby-red liquid. The clink and tinkle of plates and utensils is a background melody to the rolling hum of conversation.
“This place is unreal.” Reyna’s warm breath heats the shell of my ear. “It’s like something out of a dream.”
Before I have a chance to weigh in and respond, a man with the palest skin I’ve ever seen approaches us. His black hair is slicked back and appears wet. It contrasts his pallid complexion. “Do you have money?” he asks. Eyes that are nearly as black as his hair land on me.
“Uh,” I start to stammer.
“Yes,” Garan says sharply. He reaches into a pack at his waist and retrieves a gold-colored coin. The coin shines brightly, catching the candlelight and highlighting the intricate etching. On its surface, the likeness of an Urthman is engraved.
Seeing it, the man with the sickly-pale skin and wet-looking hair’s eyes bulge. He seems to have lost his ability to speak as he stares at it with his thin lips parted.
“Is he okay? He looks like he may have soiled himself.” Xan is at my ear speaking, his voice far too loud to be considered a whisper.
“U-Urthman gold,” the man stutters.
Garan’s nod is almost imperceptible. His features are hard, far harder than I’ve seen them since meeting him.
“P-please follow me.” The man turns on his heels, hunching to the point where he’s nearly bowed.
“Oh yeah, he’s messed his pants,” Xan says. “Just hold your breath.”
I can’t help but laugh at what he’s said. My eyes involuntarily bounce from the tables and food around me to the man’s backside. It doesn’t appear dirty but…Xan could be right.
We’re led to a large, round table that seats all nine of us. As soon as we sit, the pale man hands us large pieces of paper folded in half. Words are written inside with numbers scrawled beside them.
“We need water,” Garan demands of the pale man.
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll send your server right over.” The pale man does something between a bow and squat before he scurries away.
“Weird guy.” Xan shakes his head. “I hope everyone’s not as weird as he is in Sinsity.
A second man appears holding a tray with nine glasses and a jug. He sets a glass in front of each of us and fills it with water. I lift mine to my lips as soon as it’s full. The liquid is cold and refreshing as it trickles down my throat. I try to sip, but it’s useless. Too much time without water has me gulping greedily until the glass is empty. I look around and everyone’s is empty.
“More.” Garan commands the server with one word.
At Garan’s command, our glasses are refilled. The man disappears and places a full pitcher on the table. “I’ll be back to take your order,” the man says.
Now that we’ve drank, the mood of our group lightens. Ara’s head is swiveling left and right. She’s commenting, marveling at the décor to Reyna while Xan and Micah stare at a woman whose neckline is so low it looks like a baby’s rear-end rests on her chest. Aaron points to the sconces and beams in the ceiling as he chats with Kai and Pike. Garan scans the room, his expression impassive. I decide to look at the words on the paper handed to me.
The words roasted pig with potatoes pop out at me first. Then grilled beef with mashed potatoes. Then chicken. Then stew. Ravenous, my mouth waters. I want all of it. I can’t believe my eyes. Where does all of this food come from? Where do they hunt? The desert was devoid of animals. Certainly cows, chickens and any kind of root vegetables could not survive. My stomach contends with my brain, hunger winning out over the need for answers.
“All of this is here?” I turn and ask Garan.
“Yep,” he replies.
“We can get any of this? Any of the meals listed?” I double check.
Garan smiles. “Of course!”
I look around the table, my gaze settling on Reyna, who sits beside Ara. She chews her lower lip, studying the paper. I overhear Ara next to me as she leans in and tells Reyna, “I don’t know what to order. All of it sounds so good.”
Garan hears it, too. His smile widens to a grin. “I can’t wait to see her face when she actually tries one of the meals.”
“Me neither.” I bob my head in agreement. My smile mirrors his as we both look at my sister. She and Pike are the youngest members of our group, but somehow she seems even younger than he does. “I’m pretty excited to eat, too,” I say. “But I highly doubt I’ll be as cute as she is when I do. In fact, you might want to look away when the food comes.”
Garan laughs. Kai, listening in, laughs too. The rich bass reverberates deep in his chest and is as warm a sound as the scents swirling around the room.
Xan, not looking amused at the moment, lifts his chin. He shifts anxiously.
“What?” I ask and clip my chin toward him. “What’s the matter?”
His gaze lowers to the paper. His brows lower before knitting in consternation. “I don’t know what the letters mean.”
“You can’t read?” I ask pointblank.
He shakes his head.
“I can’t read either,” Micah announces but without the obvious shame Xan showed.
“No worries,” I say. “I still have a hard time myself. Ara is the best reader in my family. Pike, too.” I gesture to my brother and sister. “While they wanted to sit with Mom and learn, all Kohl and I wanted to do was wrestle or hunt.”
A sad smile curves Ara’s mouth at the memory. “I remember. Mom used to pretend she was madder than she really was. She always said she had a hard time getting mad at you and Kohl for missing your lessons.” Her voice catches and her eyes shine with unshed emotion.
“Mom was great,” Pike nods and says. “She was so smart and kind and pat
ient. But tough, too.”
“Haha, yeah,” I agree as my mind floods with memories of my petite mother exuding the strength and bravery of the mightiest creature. “She was.”
A brief period of silence stretches between us as the three of us quietly remember our mother.
Unexpectedly, Garan raises his glass of water and extends his arm toward the center of the table. “To Lucas, Pike and Ara’s mother.” The gesture is foreign to me, but touching nevertheless. Each of us imitates what Garan does.
Xan says simply, “To Mom.”
Those two words echo in unison and we drink before lowering our glasses to the table.
Kai, seeking to uplift the serious mood that’s settled over our group, claps his large hands together loudly. “Who’s ready to eat? I know I sure am, and I plan to order the grilled beef and mashed potatoes.
Aaron, sitting to Xan’s left, slides his chair closer. “I can help you with that.” He begins reading the list of foods Nate’s offers to Xan and Micah.
“Lucas, what’re you getting?” Kai asks.
“I don’t know. Everything!” I rub my belly and reply.
“I hear that!” Kai laughs.
“I think I’ll try the stew.” The thought of a mixture of meat and vegetables in a hearty brine sounds like the perfect meal.
When the server returns, I order the stew. Everyone else orders their meal. The meal of choice seems to be the roasted pig with potatoes and beans. The man writes our order on a small pad of paper then disappears. We wait, starving, for what seems like an eternity. When the man comes back, he holds a tray. Steam rolls from the plates and bowls, the aroma of our meals melding and wafting from them and forming an intoxicating fragrance.
Everyone is served. My meal reaches me last. My hands shake with need as I take the bowl. I breathe deeply, inhaling the exotic scents. I lift the first spoonful to my mouth. The thick, warm broth exceeds my wildest dreams. Any expectation I had or could have formulated based on the smell is surpassed. Delicious is an understatement. Chunks of meat, potatoes, carrots and herbs I can’t identify roll on my tongue, the individual flavors blending so seamlessly that a deep rumble of approval sounds from within my chest. I scoop up another spoonful of stew. Then another and another, eating as fast as I can, fearing it’ll turn cold.
Sin City Page 11